


Cat and the Wolf

by SpiralsInTime



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Roach Ships It (The Witcher), Stray Cat, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiralsInTime/pseuds/SpiralsInTime
Summary: Geralt finds Jaskier with a cat plopped down onto his lap, purring affectionately. The Witcher had never pet a cat in his long-lived life and the bard is determined to change that.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Roach, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 27
Kudos: 309
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	Cat and the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the book quote: "'Here, kitty, kitty," the Witcher said. The cat stopped what it was doing and looked at him malevolently, flattened its ears and hissed, baring its little fangs. "I know," Geralt nodded, "I don't like you either. I'm only joking.'" (Sword of Destiny, 125).

_ Where the fuck did the bard go off to now? _

Geralt grumbled to himself, stalking through the rotting streets of an old town he had forgotten the name of, Roach slightly behind, the sound of her hooves clattering against the cobblestone leveling the irritation rising in the Witcher. The smell of piss and ale leaked from passing taverns, worsening his ‘brooding mood,’ or so that loud, chirpy bard Jaskier labels it. 

The young bard had forced his way into the Witcher’s life like a stubborn rock in your boot that just won’t let off no matter the effort; a small irritant, but soon forgotten over time. 

_ Forced?  _ The Witcher thought with a mental shake of his head,  _ gave up trying to push him away after that annoying — although, helpful — song, Toss a Coin. Basically welcomed him onto the Path.  _

Geralt’s scold deepened at the thought. He was a Witcher for God's sakes, the Path was not for humans, nevermind a  _ bard _ of all people. It was selfish of Geralt, in the end; keeping Jaskier with him, not fighting him enough to stay put when he’d hunt monsters that could easily kill the bard. But he couldn’t ignore the —hypothetical— light Jaskier brought into his long-lived life. 

For decades, the Path was a numbing task, any luxuries practically nonexistent other than the occasional small bath at inns. It was him and Roach, walking under extreme weather, the ambient noises only keeping them company, but now, because of the bard, the Path was more...tolerable. 

Geralt was exposed to Jaskier’s... Jaskierness, the first day in Posada. The wide, curious blue eyes always seemed to land on the Witcher, analyzing him like the monsters he hunted, but never with judgment nor fear. Pure, genuine curiosity flooded those star-like eyes. 

_ Naivé,  _ the Witcher first thought, which was further proven with the elves;  _ had the boy really thought they were given the lands? Humans; ignorant, greedy species.  _

Jaskier didn’t go running back to the safety of Posada after that, surprising Geralt, though he knew the day would soon come. Then, “Respect doesn’t make history,” again, the Witcher was taken aback by the true words from such a young human; however, before Geralt could think the slightest bit fondly of the man, he started singing, striding ahead of him, knowing damn-well he wouldn’t be left. It was an irritant.

It was an irritant at first. The Witcher wasn’t used to the constant human-noise outside of villages, so when the bard attached himself to Geralt, he was quick to notice just how  _ much  _ Jaskier was, in every aspect. The young man moved like his life depended on it; always waving his hands with great gestures while talking, tapping a mindless tune against tavern tables, fidgeting with his fingers, and running his hands through his mess of brown locks - only to sigh dramatically, complaining about how the humidity has made it too “ _ floofy.”  _ Geralt could manage the movement. It helped keep track of his bard and the emotions he was having. 

_ His bard?  _

Letting out a snarl, he was brought quickly back into his surroundings, the nearby villagers smelling of fear, their steps increasing to pass him as fast as possible. He scented the air—the bard loved telling the Witcher how much of a literal wolf he acted—in search of the natural scent of Jaskier. Getting a hold on it, the slightest smell of sweat, fire smoke, and mint that Jaskier chews on occasionally. Striding down an alleyway, Roach in step, his nose constantly twitching as he continued scenting the air, forcing his focus past the piss smell of humanity. 

Rounding a corner, the calming smell of his bard intensified as his prey-like eyes landed on the colorful bard bent low on the cobblestone, a thin cat rubbing happily against his legs. Geralt stopped, letting his boots drag to give the bard warning of his presence. 

“Geralt!” The bard waved his arm cheerfully, welcoming the Witcher enthusiastically as always, an illuminating smile over his strong features. “Oh, come, come! I’ve made a new friend - don’t look at me like that, Witcher, he  _ is  _ my friend. Now don’t be jealous, you’re still my wolf, but this here is my cat.” 

Unknowingly, Geralt’s lips tugged upwards to how genuine Jaskier was; always open and full of emotions worn on his sleeves. Letting go of the reins, he stepped forward, only to stop instantly as the cat arched its back, fur screaming along with its hiss. 

“ _ Aw,  _ he doesn’t like you,” Jaskier chuckled, yet again, pointing out the obvious. 

Geralt leaned against the damp building, arms folded across his chest. “Cats never have liked me,” 

Blue eyes stared at him with disbelief, the cat now behind the bard getting his tail brushed through by the man’s fingers. “You haven’t pet a cat? W-wait, how old are you, again? One-hundred—“ 

“Eighty-something,” he grumbled, though Jaskier ignored him. Typical. 

“—and in that entire time, you never pet a cat before?” Geralt shrugged, looking to Roach. He was unable to keep the strong gaze Jaskier bore into him, too many emotions dancing wildly in those shades of blue. Neither of them spoke, sliding into a silence both weren’t necessarily enjoying. Scenting the air, Geralt concluded Jaskier seemed...sad? 

“Come here you ol’ grump,” the bard’s tone fell into a calming one, less cheerful; more determined and excited. Geralt hesitated, knowing full-well the cat would run off. He didn’t want to do that to Jaskier after the cat had clearly brought him joy. 

“Please,” Jaskier dragged out the word, begging with his wide, emotional eyes. 

_ Don’t you know I can’t say no to you when you look at me like that? _

Geralt grumbled, heaving himself off the wall to slowly walk towards Jaskier and the cat—now, plopped down on the man’s lap, analyzing eyes boring into the Witcher’s every movement. 

“Shh, you’re okay, Love. It’s just Geralt. He looks all mean and intimidating, but in reality, he’s basically a large, huggable teddy,” Jaskier whispered down, blowing soft kisses to the cat curled up within his crossed legs. The sight made Geralt’s chest ache. 

_ How can one be so openly affectionate? —be that affectionate with me? _

“Love?” Geralt stopped short, silently, with a raised eyebrow. 

“Mm? Oh! Yeah, Love, I call him that,” Jaskier smiled proudly, scratching behind Love’s ear, still muttering under his breath to calm him. “Now,” he looked up at the Witcher towering over him, his voice falling into his ‘professor voice’, one that sent heat down South of Geralt’s body, something he forcibly ignored, trying not to question it too much. “Sit down, slowly. Yeah, like that, just move slow,” 

Geralt was still a good arm’s length away but sat down leaning his back against the wall, letting his long legs stretch out in front of him awkwardly. 

“You know, you wolves and cats aren’t that much different,” 

_ I’m not an actual wolf— _

“Oh hush, I know that face. I’m  _ aware  _ you’re not an actual wolf. I’m not dumb, you ass. Though, you hold many qualities of a wolf...but that’s not the point I was leading to.” Jaskier pet the cat gently, blowing soft kisses at him before speaking again, his attention completely on Love. “Anyway, my point: both you and cats are constantly analyzing your surroundings, humans even more so. You don’t give your trust to just anyone; for the most part, they must earn it.”

“You earned his trust fast,” Geralt teased, not completely grasping the analysis between him and a  _ cat  _ of all things.

Blue met blazing gold, holding their gaze, a growing smirk on Jaskier’s lips. “Yet another thing you and cats have in common,” he commented smugly, his smirk transforming swiftly into a genuine smile. Geralt felt he wanted to smile back. 

“Cats are also little shits,” Jaskier teased, awkwardly sliding his body closer to the Witcher’s, the cat tensing up, but stayed in the warm lap, looking content with the constant attention. 

Geralt snorted, earning him a chuckle from the man beside him now, their shoulders brushing ever so lightly. The contact spread warmth through Geralt’s mutated body like a pleasant crackling fire. The flickering flames ever so close, he could reach out for them, being engulfed by their burning kisses, igniting the unknown emotions within him. 

_ Maybe getting to know them wouldn’t be too bad.  _

“Okay, here,” Jaskier whispered out, reaching his hand to gently grab Geralt’s, his other still on the uneasy cat. “Trust me, yeah?” 

_ Fuck—more than a Witcher should.  _

He grunted as an affirmation, willingly letting himself be guided by a firm hand, the calloused fingertips brushing against his rough skin. Love perked up, watching Jaskier slowly move another hand over his head to give my scratches, though a larger hand rested on top.

The purring instantly stopped. Geralt held his breath, not wanting the cat to act out and accidentally getting the bard with his claws. “Geralt, breathe. You tensing up only makes Love do the same.” 

Jaskier watched the Witcher’s face as he softly guided his hand to brush against Love’s back. Geralt’s attention was wrapped completely on Love, his worried brow lessening as he felt the rough fur, the little cat arching it’s butt into the air instinctively. 

“Why is he doing that?” Geralt gently breathed out, not wanting to scare Love off with increasing his volume. 

Chuckling, eyes glancing down at the content-looking cat, he spoke fondly, tone matching the older man, “It’s a sign of friendliness, basically telling you he wants more,” 

Geralt tilted his head, his wavy unkempt hair falling over his curious eyes. “Mhm,” 

The bard pulled his hand away, barely stopping the laugh on his tongue at the look of concern flashing through the Witcher’s features. “It’s okay,” he warm-heartedly chuckled out, “I showed him he could trust you by trusting you with my touch. He  _ should  _ be fine with just you petting him,”

“Should?” Geralt didn’t look convinced, and slowed down his pets, being extra careful, concentrating on the task at hand. Jaskier didn’t answer, only looked at his wolf with a proud smile, not understanding how anybody could see him as a monster. 

Scratching right by his ear—something Roach liked—the purring rose, sending vibrations through the Witcher’s body. “He’s purring,” Jaskier exclaimed, voice flooding with excitement and joy. Geralt couldn’t help the small smile coming over him. “He likes you!” 

He just huffed through his nose, watching his fingers drag along the cat’s visible spin, scratching his raised rump, before pulling his hand away completely. The bard looked at him in question. “He needs food,” he shrugged, considering what he needs. “Bring him with us for now, you make camp right outside the village, I’ll hunt something for us all.” 

Jaskier’s smile widened further, if that’s even possible, broadcasting his pure joy. “Let’s go, Love. I’m going to pick you up, alright? There you go,” 

_ Maybe the bard’s right,  _ Geralt considered, walking Roach to the forest’s edge, letting her graze on long grass and dandelions. Looking at the thin cat, scared and untrusting of the world — a world where people ignored his existence, let him go hungry and to fend for himself —, he thought back to Posada. Alone, ignored, spat on, and hungry. Until a certain bard came up to him, beaming his happiness around for free, offering the small affections the Witcher would allow. 

_ Maybe Love and I could get along; and the cat too. _

  
  



End file.
